Whiskey Eyes
by jkwasher
Summary: From the kiss in the hospital to the whiskey near the end of the season, Season 5 is about repair and healing between Walt and Vic, even as other friendships unravel all around him.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: First to come to me after Season 5 viewing. The whiskey in Episode 10 is after all, the bookend to the hospital kiss in Episode 1. Season 5 gives me great hope for the future, so let's hope for a timely renewal to get Season 6!**_

 **Whiskey Eyes**

When he finally brought the Lagavulin out with him to the Bullpen, she'd been gone. After all the introspection, the door between them beckoning and no longer anything meaningful keeping him from her anymore…her marriage dissolved, and Martha's and Branch's deaths reconciled with Barlow's.

And Donna…who he had initially studied and desperately wanted, even in his dreams, had been first real interest since Martha. That had suddenly evaporated, as Vic's kiss in the hospital made him realize in almost painful but obvious ways that Donna was _not_ Martha, and that he hadn't really wanted her at all.

It had been an amicable split between them, but he still wondered what Donna had really wanted from him. Her story was a full of holes as swiss cheese, and there was something…elusive, hovering there at the point of where his memory faded…that she wasn't telling him. And probably a whole lot more beyond that, if he had any remnants left as a judge of character.

Besides, Donna's interest in him had not translated to any real affection, and he most definitely wanted that back in his life. Not sex exactly, nor exclusively, but that hug on the couch thing, that quiet bond Martha and he had always shared, peppered with humor and, until apparently those last few months, their secrets with each other. It might be his black eye or her cancer, they had always cared for one another even when something else in their lives might be going to shit. His mouth turned up, for that was not normally how he thought. He really must be hanging around Vic too much, lately.

He still couldn't make Donna's likeness out at all. For him, she was still an empty photograph frame to fill…he didn't know her, or what lay beneath, in any substantial way. The relationship with her son he might possibly understand a little, given his own current delicate relationship with Cady. It still stung, being considered one in a string of boyfriends, with her ex-husband powerful and still interested in her according to _Andrew_. But the sting had worn to a minor ache, a cloak he shed and let roll off his shoulders. It just hadn't mattered enough to let it take hold.

So here he was in the Bullpen, still standing undecided how to proceed, with half a bottle of exceptionally expensive whiskey he had only put in his drawer a couple of months ago. That it was half-empty was due to an office celebrations after he returned from killing Barlow, and a foray of apology over it with Lucian. Sad, really.

God knew he had plenty to drink about now, but tonight, he'd just wanted to be with someone. Well, he amended, with _her._

That was probably because he recently found he hated to drink alone. He didn't count a couple of Rainiers in the privacy of his cabin, or at the Pony, but this particular whiskey was serious stuff. Vic had undergone a serious enough week of her own, with the trial and all. He didn't want to unload on her, just maybe share the most recent conversation he'd had with the Mayor, or the earlier one his attorney had with Tucker Baggett. That would probably throw ice water on any flames they might generate tonight, but it was how he and Martha had coped for years, and he thought it just might work with Vic, too.

The brief visit to her RV a week ago had been cathartic. He'd needed to get his bargain with the Boston devil off his chest, although there had been moments when he'd been distracted by her cleavage and proximity. He'd almost kissed her there, but it wouldn't have been right, not with Donna and he still technically involved. Donna had seemed unsurprised and unembarrassed by the knowledge of the hospital kiss and those plaguey dispositions, but then again, she always dismissed Vic as inconsequential to him. In his opinion, that had been one of Donna's overwhelming misjudgments, underestimating Vic. He had this feeling Donna's seeming renewed interest in him had something to do with Vic, or, as Ruby informed him, "Vic telling Donna what's what" in his office one day.

Because, to be honest, the ethereal and arousing kiss in the hospital still haunted him. Vic stayed with him night and day, even if she were just in his mind. He could still smell her vanilla and lemon scent in bed at night, feel the pressure of her lips on his, the tender release, and the resulting ridge of arousal, even if he were merely sneaking a glimpse of her as she drove. That single kiss, even unreturned, had somehow withered any further temptation for Donna Monaghan into something shallow and unimportant, whereas the mysteries that were Vic remained waiting to be revealed.

It occurred to him that maybe he should check on her. She lived in a mobile home park, now, not the safest area, if any areas of Durant were not safe. He just wanted to be sure.

Oh, who was he kidding? He set off down the stairs, the Lagavulin still in his hand.

He wanted to see her. He just hoped she wasn't entertaining, at least male company. That would be excusable, but awkward. He didn't want to pull rank as her boss, but…he might, anyway.

As he drove up, his nerves rose a little. Her lights were on, no sign of other vehicles.

He knocked on the door, and she was there, light limning her from behind.

"Oh, Walt—come on in. I made dinner, to thank Travis for getting the plumbing straightened out the other day. Are you hungry? I have more. It's just pasta."

Behind her, he could see Travis sitting on one of the upholstered couches, wolfing down a paper plate full of shaker cheese and sauce-covered noodles with a side of what appeared to be salad.

Travis swallowed, waved but looked unaccountably wary. "Hi, Sheriff?"

"I—don't want to bust in—"

But all he could think was, _Travis?,_ and raise an eyebrow at Vic. She knew him well enough how to interpret his quizzical look.

"No, no. You aren't interrupting a _date_ , Walt. It's just a thank-you."

 _Whew._

"I've been helping Vic out here and there. Housewarming, plumbing..."

He suddenly realized he was under scrutiny. Why was Travis suddenly studying him with narrowed eyes? What had he done now? He realized belatedly he was still holding the Lagavulin in his right hand.

"I—uh, brought something for us to drink to your new home, also for housewarming."

"Your loss, she's not drinking tonight," said Travis with his mouth full, and he could see Vic's eyes flash. What was _that_ all about?

"Travis, I do need to talk to Walt, so when you're done, let's call it a night, okay?"

Travis' jaw jutted mutinously, but he began to dig into his pasta with renewed vigor.

She turned to him. "Civil suit?" She whispered it.

He shrugged, stared at the whiskey. "Just…so much going on."

"Mmm. Yeah, no question. Do you want to go outside?"

She was wearing one of her tank tops, and as they descended the steps, he wrestled himself out of his heavy jacket and threw it over her shoulders.

"Very gallant," she said in one of her flirtier voices, sounding suspicious at the same time. "Now, what's really up, Walt?"

"Uh—you sure you don't want a drink? This is the good stuff."

She took the bottle from him, examined the label, and her eyebrows rose.

"This doesn't look like Walt Longmire _Rainier Man_ sort of booze. I'll only ask one more time: what's up?—and then I'll punch you." But she was grinning, and he knew he was all right with her.

"Maybe I shouldn't offer you a Rainier anymore, if you've moved up in the world?" Her face scrunched.

He took a breath, caught her gaze. She looked concerned. He didn't want concern, he wanted…he wanted…the way she'd looked into his eyes when he'd visited here, before. This time, he'd definitely kiss her. Her look of concern suddenly shifted into panic. She took a breath, mounted the steps and leaned inside.

"I really need to talk to Walt inside, Travis. _Really."_

Travis filled the doorway, carrying his paper plate and fork, and she stepped down and aside to let him go past.

"You owe me one, Vic," he grumped as he pushed by her.

"Yeah." But she didn't sound too worried.

"Where's he going?" asked Walt. "Does he need a ride?"

"Oh, no. He's my new stalker. Rented a trailer three slips down."

He absorbed that. No wonder Travis was eating here. Sudden jealousy. Could he not catch a break, but no… _Travis?_

"Let's go in," she said, sounding a little breathless. "Your jacket's heavy." She slipped it off her shoulders and handed it back to him. He shrugged back into its familiar warmth, which now smelled slightly of her hair. He might take it to bed with him that night…if he didn't take more…

He let his breath out. He was terrified. What if she rejected him? Before they went in, he wanted to clear up some things.

"Um. I wanted you to know, Donna and I decided, well…we broke up."

She stared at him. "Broke up." Like that was a foreign language.

"Yeah, you know, we just…didn't have as much in common as I first thought."

"Yeah? Oh, well. I'm sorry Walt. On top of everything else…"

"No. It's—it's okay, Vic. It was complicated. The search for her, the aftermath of the attack, made me realize it, I guess."

"Okay." She looked suddenly very pale in the yellow light, put her hand to her mouth, then ran to the end of the rear of the RV, bent over. He was close behind her, holding her hair back as she vomited copiously, most of it looked like it had recently been pasta.

"Vic?" He was appalled, if news of his breakup made her sick.

She took a deep breath. "I need to go inside and rinse. Brush my teeth."

"Of course. Can you walk?" He felt helpless.

She shook him off. Of course I can—Walt, I did a terrible thing. Three things. I wasn't kidding when I told Travis I really need to talk to you."

The civil suit and dread pressed on him. What _could_ she have done?

"Let's get inside, then you can tell me."

XXXXX

Ten minutes later she came out of the bathroom wearing a Flyers sweatshirt over her tank. Her hair was ponytailed back and he'd heard her brushing her teeth and maybe splashing water on her face for a long time. She still looked pale and didn't look like she was planning to seduce him, no surprise.

He'd put the whiskey on the table, rummaged around her cupboards and found a glass pitcher. He boiled water in it in her microwave.

"Tea?" he asked, pointing to the mug he'd found near the pitcher, and teabags sitting nearby in a box on her table.

She exhaled, still looking pale, and nodded. She blew her breath out. "That sounds really good. Thank you."

He tore open a teabag, hung it over the side of the mug and poured water into it for her.

"What's wrong, Vic?"

She once again took the couch across from him, as he handed her the mug. He held onto it for a second longer than necessary.

"It'll need to steep," he cautioned.

She gave a half-smile. "I know. And it's hot." She blew on it to cool it. "And it needs sugar." She helped herself from a bowl of packets on the counter, then settled in, her gaze meeting his. Once again he was struck by her eyes, those whiskey eyes, more potent than the best whiskey in the world.

"I have to tell you some things."

"Okay." He could do this, he did it every day with suspects, except…Vic wasn't a suspect. She was…well, he wasn't sure yet what she might become, that remained to be seen. In any event, she was _Vic._

"First. I think I really screwed up. I went to see Chance."

He felt himself go still, could hear the tick-tick-tick of a clock in the background.

"And…?"

"And retrieved a plastic-wrapped gun from the river near his compound."

"And…?"

" _And_ took it to the FBI in Gillette, but I'm afraid, Walt, after I thought about it during the night, could it be the one you took off his nephew that night at the compound? One with your prints on it?"

"I—I don't know." That gun had disappeared with a lot of other ones before all was said and done.

"He said—Chance said it was the one which was used to kill the Census agent in the freezer."

The chill of that suddenly hit him. "Oh. Vic. It might have been."

"And preserved in a bag in the river with fingerprints. If yours are on there…"

He wondered if he should just resign now, walk up into the hills and never come back, or drink all the whiskey and make it go away, either for the moment, or for forever.

"I just wanted him to be on Death Row."

"Death Row is like the Ritz in prison. Much nicer than in the common areas with the _hoi polloi_ ," Walt said, thinking he might be destined to join Chance there someday, too…

She began to cry.

His Vic, _cry?_ The thought intruded, when had she become _his Vic?_

"Vic, Vic, it will be all right." He leaned forward and patted her shoulder. He didn't believe it, but he wanted her to. She'd had a rough go ever since Chance had beaten her. She deserved better.

"No, no, you don't understand…"

He understood he might be fingered for a murder he didn't commit, as though he had set Chance Gilbert up…

"Walt. I'm _pregnant._ "

Her eyes, now darkened past the color of the whiskey in the bottle, stared into his.

" _What?"_

"Pregnant. Maybe three months or even a little more, had an ultrasound earlier today. Things have been so crazy, I just haven't noticed until the last few weeks."

"Oh." And then she was a sweat-shirted bundle which moved into his arms, warm and solid, and his lap had never felt so right.

"Donna said she was, too." He said it without thinking.

" _Donna? Pregnant?_ Oh, no, Walt. I don't believe her. She's too—"

"No, she wasn't really, she said she did it to make a point, that I would do the right thing and marry her."

"Sounds cruel. Like making you the object of an experiment."

Her arms tentatively looped around his neck and she laid her head on his chest.

He had thought so at the time. That Vic thought so too only made him sad. Donna hadn't been the woman he thought, but Vic…

"Eamonn, then?" he said with a measure of certainty.

"Once. About seven weeks ago. After I figured out you were dating Donna."

"Almost-dating Donna," he corrected. "We actually hadn't even had dinner together, at that point."

"Oh." Her voice sounded very odd and sad, very empty. She sniffed. "And before that, one night, I got blind drunk, when you were in that hiring frenzy. After you almost got shot over the Zoloft. That scared the shit out of me."

That was why he'd never told her he'd been nearly executed over that. Maybe he should tell her about that. Soon.

"With whom?"

"See…I"

"You don't _know?_ That's dangerous, Vic."

"No, no…not that, I barely _remember_ it. It truly was, _just sex._ "

"With whom? Do I need to have a talk with him? About doing the right thing?"

"I—I don't think so. The more I think about it, the timing from the ultrasound, when I'm due, all that…I think it was…I think. Sean."

He gave a long exhalation. Sean, whom he had thought had fled and remained safely away from them, but had almost gleefully sent a damning video to try and put a spoke in Chance's trial.

"Sean's going to be a dad." He said it in disbelief.

"I think so. I can get a DNA test next week to make sure."

"What can I do, Vic?" He felt helpless, and like punching Sean out for leaving her, but was sure that wouldn't help things in the civil suit, either.

"I—well, Eamonn says he's getting out of law enforcement and doesn't want to work for you, anyway. Zach is gone, but we really need to add a deputy or two. You do realize I have to take myself out of the field, right? Pull office duty, dispatch, whatever, until the baby's born?"

That hit him like a ton of bricks. He would miss riding with her so much, sparring with her, and now…between her condition and Dave's admonitions to him about not _publically supporting_ his deputy before the civil suit, the possibility of more went to ashes in his mouth.

"Who was the other guy, just in case it isn't Sean?"

She winced. "I'm so sorry, Walt. It was…" She hung her head, turned it, as though trying to make it more palatable in vain. "Travis." She whispered the word.

 _Travis?_

He didn't put her from him. Her head was buried in his shoulder. It was like they were sharing the pain of the moment. The disbelief.

Of anyone, that hurt. That she would resort to…

And then nights of his own youth came tumbling back to him, nights he couldn't get back, blind drunk and regretting his actions. Nights of fighting, careless, reckless actions, words he couldn't retract. His only saving grace had been he hadn't gotten pregnant.

And then slowly followed what Henry might call a vision, his belief in transformation, and of second chances.

"Vic." He could hear his voice rumble against her ear.

"I—I know. I'm so sorry. I can resign instead if it will help the suit. I already wrote the letter."

Panic hit first, quickly followed by relief. Where everyone had been lying to him, she had come clean, and he understood why she had done those things. She'd been lonely, like he had, but whereas he had skirted around an almost-relationship, she hadn't cultivated a relationship at all after the initial skirmishes. Then, the Chance thing, which he had been more than a little tempted to act on himself, if truth be told.

"Does Eamonn know?" he asked, startling her.

Her response was almost instant. "No. It was just sex, just the once, to hurt you. He called me on it, and until the day after your shooting, we hadn't seen or talked to each other again."

"Okay, what about Travis?"

"I bought him a couple of beers and wanted to let him down easy. You really did shatter his dreams. It was just sex, but for him, I think I was momentary comfort. Now, he just wants to help." Her chin quivered. "He even gave me babysitting certificates, because he was raised by a single mom." She sniffed into his damp shirt.

"Well. If it is Sean, then what?"

She bit her lip. "Then I sue him for spousal support, child support, and get a place where the baby and I can be safe and comfortable?"

He wanted to bite his own lip. She was leaving him totally out of the equation. What he wanted to say was _his place,_ but it might no longer be his in the matter of only weeks if the award went Tucker Baggett's way.

"I—I want you to know, I would like to marry you, of course I'd offer, but not because it's the right thing to do, or because I feel obligated, because…I've wanted to for a long time, but I'm pretty sure you'll say no. I still want you to at least move in with me, but you can't, at least not until the suit is over, and then…I can't guarantee I'll have a place. Dave told me not to show any public support of you until after the suit." He felt miserable. It wasn't the right thing, it wasn't fair, and she shouldn't have to deal with his problems at this time.

She gave a watery chuckle. "If you file for appeal, you can always move in with me, Walt, as little as this is. I'm sure settling with Sean will take a while."

He tried, but a snort escaped, and then a full belly laugh. "Oh, Vic. You don't know how much I needed that, you saving me from myself yet again."

"We could go anywhere with this, the open road…"

His lips still twitched. "I'll keep it in mind."

In a small voice, she said, "I am so sorry about the Chance thing."

"I think I'll get Dave to go in with me to the FBI tomorrow for a friendly pre-disaster chat, and reiterate the part of my report about the lost guns with my fingerprints on them before it gets to that."

She nodded. To his dismay, he felt himself growing beneath her. It reminded him of his brief stay in the hospital.

She looked up, eyes suddenly huge. Swallowed.

"Walt?" she whispered.

He slow-blinked his eyes. "Maybe I'd better take that whiskey home."

"You don't have to go." There. It was said. He knew what a chance she took with those words.

It was maybe the hardest—no, that was the _wrong_ word to use—thing he'd ever done, but ten minutes later he found himself in the Bronco headed home, the Lagavulin riding shotgun in the passenger seat.

Once again their timing was off, but he was now sure they would both burst into flame if they waited too long. As it was, as her pregnancy progressed, she might no longer be interested in him, and if like Martha, the baby would become the sole importance in her life. For a long time, he had played second fiddle, until Cady was out of college at least.

He fumed in unaccustomed impotence. If Dave didn't win the suit over Tucker, he'd personally slug him over the head with the bottle of Lagavulin and bury him in the hills. Then he'd take Vic up on her offer to go on the road, call in a few favors and get Ferg and Ruby cushier jobs elsewhere,,and leave the ASD without a sheriff _or_ deputies, _or_ dispatcher.

He carried the whiskey inside, instead of a pair of eyes which could warm his insides even better. It would no doubt be a long and probably sleepless night.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: We have no idea if Vic's pregnancy will continue S6. I'm going to let it continue here as several threads begin to emerge and/or converge.**_

Chapter Two

Four shots of the Lagavulin hadn't helped. Maybe he should have tried five. The ringing phone persisted at the edge of consciousness. Walt grabbed his watch, which read 6:35, before he reluctantly threw himself out of bed and into front room to get it. He hoped desperately Vic was okay.

"Walter," came Ruby's voice, "I wanted to remind you of that meeting this morning with Dave Milgrom at 8 am sharp at your cabin."

He exhaled in both dismay and relief. "Maybe we should—"

"Into the shower with you now. I am sending Vic out now to wrangle you in case you decide to escape into the hills."

"Ruby—" whining wasn't becoming of a sheriff.

"Vic has orders to shoot to kill if you try it, because Dave says he needs to see you _both_."

Now _that_ was odd. As Ruby signed off, he was already headed to the bathroom.

Showered and dressed in a half hour, he decided he could spruce up a bit, so by the time Vic got there, he had hot tea to hand her and the place at least looked tidy.

She wrinkled her nose at the tea. "I'm okay this morning, Walt, but thanks. That was very considerate. I _am_ trying to keep it down to one cup of caffeine a day."

He shrugged. "Any idea why Dave would want to see us this morning? I planned to talk to him about the FBI. You have any dealings with him, lately?"

She shook her head. Her ponytail swung, and she looked absurdly young in the filtered morning light. In spite of his still slightly fuzzy head, he wanted to kiss her. The feeling from last night had not gone away, only intensified.

"Crackers used to help Martha in the mornings. I have some Cady left after Henry's party. Want some?"

She shook her head, but didn't look bothered. "I have no idea why, but it seems to hit worst around seven or eight at night, not in the mornings. Well, except by the river last week."

They heard a rumble, and Dave's powerful Mercedes AWD pulled up out front.

"Wow, nice car!" Vic said as she peered out, and he felt almost jealous.

"He already has a girlfriend, Vic. A fly-fishing one." She rolled her eyes at him.

Inside, Dave was all business, but Walt handed him a cup of coffee, anyway.

"Sugar would be nice."

"Sure." Walt brought him some. He added two packets before proceeding. "I won't mince words, Walt. I got a call this morning that the governor has approved your one-month suspension, or at least until the trial is over."

"Shit." It exploded from Vic.

"They of course want Deputy Moretti to take over for that month, and possibly longer, until they can hire a replacement if you lose."

He inhaled. "Am I going to lose, Dave?"

Dave shrugged. "As of this moment, I don't know."

He thought about the FBI flash drive and other items he'd copied and sent off a few days back. "Someone may send you some evidence soon. Maybe."

"Evidence I can use, or evidence illegally obtained, which gives fodder to their suit?"

"I obviously can't answer that, since I don't have it or know anything about it."

Vic looked to Walt. "Walt, can I see you on the porch for a minute?"

He finally looked to where her eyes were sending him urgent telegraphic messages.

They retired to the porch, shutting the door between them and Dave. She evidently wanted more space, jumped down the steps into the weeds and he followed.

"Walt. I'm benching myself. Immediately. I don't think they want me to survive until after the trial."

He could feel his brow furrowing. "What?"

"Walt, I didn't tell you…Chance's sister-in-law…she attacked me when I went for the gun at the river. So far, I haven't lost the baby, but what if that's the plan? You're gone, disable or kill me and my baby, and then replace both you and me?"

"She…attacked you?" Now, he saw red.

"In the river. Kicked me in the stomach. Tried to drown me."

He grabbed her arms. "We're heading to the hospital to get you checked out."

She pulled back. "Already did. It's where I got the ultrasound. Travis took me."

 _Travis again._

"You're right, you can't take over, you can't be in the field, anymore."

"I can still work the office, and do research and take meetings, I just need deputies to send out on calls."

"Deputies who carry authority. Sometimes a deputy doesn't."

They stared at one another, no brilliant solution surfacing. They went back up inside the cabin, where Dave was flipping through a file and sipping his coffee.

"So, you two want to tell me why I got a call from Tucker Baggett five minutes ago with "new evidence" that you are pregnant with the Sheriff's child, Deputy Moretti?"

All the breath whooshed out of her and she sat down hard on the edge of one of the armchairs. "Why the fuck would Tucker Baggett think that?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Dave said, making one of the faces he had thought humorous until today.

Walt had to put in his two cents. "Dave, that couldn't be further than the truth."

"It is my very pricey and professional opinion that at the very least there is a HIPAA leak at the hospital."

Walt thought of the nurse who had offered Ferg Tamar Smith's name.

Vic stared at him. It was one of those weird _in-synch_ moments with her. "Walt…Ferg's girlfriend knows an awful lot…she was in your room earlier the morning…you know, um…"

"When you kissed me?" asked Walt softly. "I don't want to think that of her. I know he's happy…"

"I—I know. I don't want to think that, either."

"I guess my first question is," began Dave, "Are you pregnant, Sheriff Moretti? And, if so, is the Sheriff the dad? Because if you are, I really need to know that to change my defense."

"Wait—" Vic seemed to be thinking on the fly. "I have only discussed the pregnancy with two people other than the technician at the hospital, so far…Travis Murphy and Walt."

"Who is this Travis Murphy?"

"Uh. It doesn't matter, he's not the father." She sounded certain of that this morning, and Walt breathed a little easier at that admission.

"The Sheriff, then?"

He felt his face go warm, and the regret behind it. He would not be unhappy with the reality of that someday, yet, he didn't want it to happen this way.

"No," he said, maybe more gruff than he had to, or with more regret.

"No," she said, with equal regret.

"I'm assuming there is a dad, and this isn't an immaculate conception?"

Vic spoke up, much firmer than the night before.

"Yeah. My Ex-husband. He was back in town about two months ago, and we had sort of a…farewell fuck." She grimaced, maybe because both Dave and he winced when she said it.

"Vic…not the other person…?"

"Nope. Timing's not right. The ultrasound pinpointed it. He was back here on business on a low-producing well, the county still hadn't sent him the decree, so he visited the courthouse the next morning."

"Did you ever get the decree?"

She looked like she was thinking. "No, now that you mention it, I haven't. I mean, I moved twice, but I left forwarding addresses and all that."

Dave cleared his throat. "I'm going to give you an assignment, Deputy Moretti. Please see if they have issued your decree."

Walt asked, but afraid to ask it, "What do we do about the suspension?"

Dave shrugged. "Take advantage of the paid vacation and don't evade me when I say we need to prepare."

Walt ducked his head, not contrite enough. She smacked him. He grunted.

"Listen to Dave! Just because I had no time before my trial…" She suddenly looked perplexed, wondering…. "That was intentional…even with the prosecutor? They set me up, didn't they? With the Gilbert trial, moving it up?" They really want both you and me out of here, don't they? The prosecutor conspired with Tucker Baggett around those depositions?"

Dave cautioned, "They're certainly going to work on damaging your reputations…."

"Ah," said Vic. About that, I've got an ace in the hole—Sean's DNA from the Gilbert attack is on file at the station, the Chance Gilbert investigation. To prove it's his baby, I can get tested today and have that for you pretty quickly, Dave."

"Ah. Excellent. Now, Walt, why can't you be more cooperative like Deputy Moretti, here?"

Walt planted his hat on his head and took a stance. "Because I don't want her hurt in all this, and knowing me is going to hurt her? I…I don't know what to do."

"I don't know, either. Deputy Moretti, don't tell anyone but Walt or me, preferably outside somewhere, the DNA results when you get them, and for confidentiality, I'd go up to a clinic in Sheridan to get the test done." He looked around, "By the way, sheriff, have you had this place—?" He made the gesture of holding his ear to listen.

Walt nodded, without answering verbally. Held two fingers up. "Moles, spies, leaks…" He bunched his lips. His county was in big trouble.

"The FBI, too, remember?" she asked. "Everywhere. You think it's Malachi?"

"Maybe…or half a dozen others. Right now, I'm not sure." Right now, he trusted very little.

"And I can stay on in the office if we get some deputies back?" She was relentless.

"I'll talk to Ferg, see if he can locate Zach, and he's doing all right, also maybe Eamonn…?"

She made a face at him. "He _is_ a trained deputy with a criminal justice background," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. She had nowhere to go with that.

"I could contact Lucian…"

She groaned.

The phone rang. Ruby.

"Walter, you have a meeting with the mayor at 2 pm today.

Walt looked at Vic. Even when it was all to shit, she was beautiful. Her concern, which he knew was genuine for him, was beautiful, and the glow from her pregnancy, which he was sure he could see, was the most beautiful.

"I want to protect you."

She shrugged and he could see her, trying to buck up for him. "Get me some deputies."

He looked at Dave. "We done here?"

"For the moment. Deputy Moretti, come to my office after you have your test results. I've had my office debugged just this week."

As they all went outside, Vic's eyes darted to Walt. "I think we need to do it every day or two at the station until this is over."

Walt met her eyes. "You're in charge." He'd never been so frightened for her, at the same time, for his own future, and yet, all he felt was helpless.

"Dave," he broached, as they walked him to the Mercedes, "You and I need to make a trip to visit the FBI."

Dave hung his head in dejection. "We're not done here, are we?"

Vic corrected him. "I am, I'm headed to the courthouse, then to Sheridan. I'll make it right with Ruby and Ferg."

Walt jerked his head toward where Horse looked expectantly over the rail, probably hoping for a carrot. "Let's talk over by the corral." They began walking.

Behind them, a both resolved yet perturbed Vic hopped into her truck and roared away.

XXX

The Mayor assumed a safe position behind his desk and smiled. To Walt, he rather resembled an alligator who was about to eat you. Beside him, Vic was in uniform, but all the buttons were up. She meant business.

"The Governor granted me your suspension."

"I heard."

"Deputy Moretti, you will report to me."

She cleared her throat. "No. I'm afraid not." Vic gave not a quarter.

"It may be irregular, but until the trial is over, I need to be privy to what is going on at the station. Or, some unsavory information might be made public…"

Really? Really? Blackmail? And he had voted for the Mayor, too…

"Well, I know there are a whole passel of lies going around out there," she began…

"About your baby with the sheriff."

She blinked but did not react. "You are mistaken."

"I'm afraid not, we have a recording of your conversation…"

I'm afraid you are. My husband is my baby's father. I've just contacted him via email today, after confirmation of the baby's DNA profile. At this time, I can't request spousal or child support."

"Of course you could, you mean your Ex-husband."

"I mean, _husband._ Ask your clerk Florence Joys. She managed to "misplace," my signed divorce papers for almost four months now. She admits, on a recording, that the Mayor's office requested her to mis-file the paperwork. I kind of call that _losing_ it. Why would you do that? Just to make mischief with my already miserable life? I know the Durant Courant would be interested in that irregularity…"

"I—"

"Confusion to the enemy, sir. I will not report to you, nor will I relinquish command to this office, but I am officially benched in the field, due to the same pregnancy, of a little _Keegan."_

He couldn't help it, it warmed him, Vic was valiant in her defense, but…

"I have asked Sheridan County to come in on this if anything— _anything–_ happens to Deputy Moretti or her baby. Since she is out of the field, there should be no violent acts against her. I have borrowed the services of _four_ additional deputies in addition to Deputy Ferguson, who is very competent."

The Mayor looked fairly sick and shell-shocked.

"I am voluntarily recusing myself, but if _any_ of my deputies are hurt while you will have me personally at the Governor's office for endangering county personnel. We played football against one another in college."

The Mayor turned white.

Vic whispered to him. "Walt… _four_ additional deputies?" He handed her the names on a piece of paper. She rolled her eyes. Only Zack and Lucian weren't formerly in the running as baby daddies.

"I know all four will try and protect you when I can't. You should never go out on duty without one of them. Maybe you should consider living with Cady again?"

"Shit," she said in growing dismay at the restrictions. Walt knew it would be tough to be the grownup with that crowd, but he felt better with safety in numbers. "Shit!" she said again.

Vic's phone buzzed, only partially silenced for the meeting. She glanced at it briefly, took the call.

"You gotta be shitting me!" He heard Ruby's voice on the other end, but couldn't make out the words.

Walt waited, expectantly.

"We need to go. Henry's disappeared! He didn't show up for work."

Walt was already out of his chair, with Vic close behind.

"Wait! Walt, you're suspended!"

"You tell Henry that," he shot back over his shoulder. "If you dare."

They left at a a run. He looked around guiltily at her, hoping she understood. "I'll drop you at the station," he said to Vic as he gunned the Bronco.

"Don't be stupid. I'm benched as soon as the deputies show up. I told you, I'm not letting you do stupid shit alone, anymore, remember? That includes finding Henry while you're suspended."

Vic—"

He took one look at her mutinous mouth, and he gave in. For Henry.


End file.
